


May I Have This Dance?

by data_jpg, Zeverous



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Secret Crush, Slow Dancing, natsby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-03-27 14:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13882869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/data_jpg/pseuds/data_jpg, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeverous/pseuds/Zeverous
Summary: Nick, quite all at once and with subtle deliberation on Jordan's part, had decided it would be "in his best interest" to learn how to dance - specifically from Gatsby.





	1. In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> i want to thank nero for beta-ing and editing this, as well as jay, ember, and ruby for helping me cope with this book, god everything hurts so much
> 
> the great gatsby as well as its characters belong to f scott fitzgerald who brought me endless suffering in under 200 pages
> 
> note from zeverous [3/11/18]: the next chapter IS being worked on and as an editor i can only do so much to make data.jpg get shit done
> 
> note from zeverous [8/12/18]: -insert fat crying cat on couch pic-

Nick, quite all at once and with subtle deliberation on Jordan’s part, had decided it would be “in his best interest” to learn how to dance - specifically from Gatsby. He had already attended several of Gatsby’s unrestricted parties, and while Jordan’s gentle teasing on Nick’s reluctance to dance was _initially_ funny, it began to manifest in what one may call ‘self-consciousness,’ a very dangerous quality in such environments. Dancing lessons were a supposedly harmless way of not only alleviating said quality, but learning a necessary social skill - all while getting close to the man he held a hopeless crush for. After the first smile Gatsby had so generously bestowed upon Nick, such radiance hadn’t left his mind. Just to be close to him would be enough.

Determined, Nick stood promptly and dressed in his finest, most frequented suit, and cut across the trimmed grass between his modest home and Gatsby’s extravagant mansion. The simple sight of those large wooden (and likely incredibly expensive) doors erased any doubt in Nick’s mind… this was his most daring adventure in quite some time. Their sheer size dwarfed him, made it all the more difficult to finally reach his fist up to knock upon the gleaming mahogany. Upon doing so, a butler much too accustomed to Nick’s presence opened the door and greeted him with a scornful glare and a shout of _“Mr. Carraway at the door, sir.”_

_Perhaps I should begin announcing my planned visits,_ Nick thought to himself.

Gatsby made his appearance shortly after - the sight of him alone made Nick’s knees weak and he struggled out a wave to suffice as greeting. There it was, that glowing smile once again, ever shining in the sunlight.

“Good afternoon, old sport!” Gatsby grinned. Nick returned the gesture, nervous.

“Hello, Gatsby,” Nick sighed in fruitless attempt to calm his nerves, finally settling in a weak but pleasant smile. “How’ve you been lately?”

“Fine, fine! Come inside, old sport, it’s good to see you again.”

Gatsby stepped back and held the door for Nick to enter, who took gentle steps into the ancestral home; everything was shiny and neat as usual - glittering light spilling from the chandeliers, shining on the walls and floor. Stunning decor lined every corner. The sight always took Nick’s breath away. Gatsby, shutting the door after Nick, approached him from behind.

A brush of the Gatsby’s fingers across Nick’s back and a firm squeeze on his shoulder sent trembles down the brunet’s spine. Living alone and closeted had left Nick so touch-starved that any contact with Gatsby at all did well to excite him.

“What can I do for you?” said Gatsby, wrapping an arm around Nick and pulling him into a brief hug from the side. Nick swallowed hard and allowed himself to accept the embrace, intensely aware of the new proximity between the two of them.

“A-ah, yes… Well, Gatsby, I’ve—“

“Please, old sport, call me Jay,” said Gatsby in a slightly muted tone, “you’ve known me far too long to address me as my business partners do.” Naturally, the following smile radiated such beauty that Nick nearly forgot his intended purpose. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Yes, Jay,” he began with tender emphasis on the newly acquired name, “I’ve been speaking with Jordan recently. She and I agree that my dancing skills are... sub-par, if existent. I came here in the hopes that I may be able to get advice from, or perhaps... a lesson, if – if you’re up to the task, of course, from my...” Nick bit his lip. “Friend.”

Gatsby raised his eyebrows. “Why, of course, of course. Anything to help you and Jordan,” he nodded. Nick was inclined to corrected him. But given the current state of affairs, decided it wasn’t worth it. Let Gatsby believe he had something with Jordan, he was fine dancing under any pretense. Gatsby clapped Nick on the back and led him through the endless maze of a house to the main dance hall, the center of his Saturday parties. He took his hand, and Nick savored his crush’s touch as he entered the massive room. Once in the very middle of the dance hall, Gatsby turned to face him.

“Now, this is a simple slow dance,” Gatsby started as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Nick’s russet eyes wandered down to trace the blonde’s now exposed forearms. He accidentally tuned out the dance instructions as he admired the tanned skin and toned muscle, finally shaking himself out of his thoughts when he noticed Gatsby wasn’t talking anymore.

“I... Sorry, what was that?” Nick asked, a bit fretful of disappointing the man. To his relieved surprise, Gatsby only gave a subtle laugh.

“Here, old sport, allow me to demonstrate. Come - put your hands on my hips,” Gatsby instructed.

_Ah._

Nick blinked in surprise and slowly stepped forward, reaching his hands just close enough to rest just a little above Gatsby’s hips, arms stretched out as far away as he could to keep their fragile distance. There was no mistaking the red tone on Nick’s face. The blond chuckled and guided Nick’s hands lower on his body. Nick drew in a quick breath as Gatsby’s hands settled over his, sliding down to his hips painfully slowly and yet not slow enough. He was close to shivering.

“Now, that’s better,” Gatsby said as he finally lifted his hands off Nick’s. “Now come closer,” he took a step to close some distance, “Because this will be a dance between you and Jordan, I’m going to play the lady’s role and let you lead me, alright? Jordan would have her arms about... right here.” He lifted his arms and threaded his fingers together behind Nick’s neck, guiding him closer still. In such intimate proximity, Nick could smell Gatsby’s cologne – surprisingly warm, comforting, and reminiscent of French vanilla.

“Once again, you’re leading the dance. It’s not difficult,” Gatsby reassured him. “Just sway with me.”

Gatsby showed Nick how to slowly shift his weight and from side to side to an imaginary tune. Nick was intensely aware of every movement, every subtle touch, every mistake he made, being in such close proximity to Gatsby in a traditionally intimate dance. His composure was being severely tested - his breathing was shaky and slow as he tried to calm himself. Gatsby considered this a lesson between friends, and Nick had to keep it that way. He turned his attention to the ground, staring decidedly at their feet as they swayed.

“By the way, old sport,” Gatsby whispered, “You may want to make eye contact.”

Gatsby took one hand from behind Nick’s neck and placed a finger under his chin, directing his vision upward until their eyes were locked. Nick had never seen Gatsby so close before, he had never had the chance to notice the green flicks in the blue of his eyes like an artist’s final hidden details of a masterpiece. He had never had the chance to notice how the wrinkles were already forming at the sides of his eyes from smiling, or how long Gatsby’s eyelashes were. He had never such an expression of longing before now.

Nick couldn’t handle the pressure. Gatsby’s hand returned to rest behind Nick’s neck and every graze of those fingers against his sensitive skin made Nick shiver. His grip on Gatsby’s hips tightened as if he were hanging on for life itself. If any time were right, it was this moment. Nick cleared his throat and looked back down.

“Jay. There’s something I need you to know,” he started quietly.

“Yes?” hummed Gatsby, and Nick closed his eyes. His voice was so much lower in their secrecy, almost too delicate to hear. Nick leaned his head on Gatsby’s shoulder and felt the blond almost tense under him.

“I... don’t know how to say this,” Nick let out in a low breath. “There’s just something in the way—“

A knock at the dance hall doors rang sharply, interrupting Nick, and one of Gatsby’s butlers entered the room as the two scrambled apart.

“Chicago is on the phone, sir,” said the butler as he suspiciously eyed the couple.

“Yes, yes… Thank you, Henry, that – that will be all,” Gatsby stuttered. Nick and Gatsby watched the butler give them one last look before he turned to leave the room. Gatsby returned his gaze to the brunet.

“I’m sorry, old sport, I really must take this—“

“No, of course, Jay,” Nick promised. He almost swore he saw a flush creep up Gatsby’s face. His own cheeks felt as if they were burning. Very nearly had they – had _he_ been caught confessing such dangerous feelings.

“See you again Saturday?” Gatsby said quickly, stepping back from Nick.

“Of course,” replied Nick as casually as he could. “Looking forward to it.”

—

Gatsby walked Nick out to the door and they said their final goodbyes and the evening drew to a close. Nick’s breath was still shaking from the afternoon’s events. He swore he could still feel Gatsby’s touch on his neck as he drifted to sleep in bed that night.


	2. Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick found himself once more in the chaotic tide of anonymous New Yorkers funneling themselves into Gatsby’s mansion through the very doorway that had seemed so intimidatingly large only days ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait on this chapter! i know it's been a while since i've done any work on this, i have a number of excuses but zeverous finally made me finish at the expense of my statistics homework. regardless, it's finally here, thanks for your patience on this and i hope you enjoy!!

Nick found himself once more in the chaotic tide of anonymous New Yorkers funneling themselves into Gatsby’s mansion through the very doorway that had seemed so intimidatingly large only days ago. Now it seemed to have shrunk, the way the hundreds of partygoers tried to pour into the chateau-like home, desperate to escape the rain. The brunet was shoved and elbowed through the main hall, caught in the flowing stream of people until he was finally released into the dance hall. The room that had been so scandalously private the last time Nick had set foot in it was now its usual weekend state – crowded with people from every lifestyle imaginable taking advantage of Gatsby’s liquor, food, and music. Once Nick had shuffled through the throng of people, he was able to reach the upper levels of the staircase to look over the crowd. The scene laid before him was messy, a pleasantly violent air in a way unique to Gatsby. Nick propped his elbows on the staircase rail and rested his head in his palms, only to be disturbed by a tap on his shoulder.

 

Yet, when Nick turned, no one was there. His brows furrowed in annoyance as he glanced over his left shoulder, seeing no one that could have wanted his attention. Brushing it off, he turned to his right and came eye to eye with Jordan. Nick gasped in surprise as he started back, nearly falling down the steep flight of stairs. Jordan caught him by the arm before he could take the fall.

 

“Easy, Nick,” she laughed as she pulled him back upright.  

 

“You could’ve just said ‘hello’,” he said, still reeling from his brush with injury.

 

“Hello,” Jordan smirked as she took Nick’s previous position, leaning on the railing and watching the party unfold. Nick quickly joined her.

 

“Quite a turnout tonight,” Jordan commented coolly as she tucked a stray piece of jet black hair behind her. “Did you ask Gatsby to dance yet?”

 

Nick flushed.

 

“I, well – no,” he said with a shake of the head, “No, I couldn’t, not here with these people, I–”

 

“Shock and awe,” Jordan interrupted with lilted curtness, giving him a sideways glace. “The man’s afraid. What do you think he’s going to say? ‘To be truthful with you, I would rather die, old sport,’” Jordan said in a low voice, doing her best impression of Gatsby.

 

“That sounds… about right,” Nick lamented, burying his face in his hands, ashamed of his own cowardice.

 

“Nick…” Jordan whispered in sympathy. She gently placed her hand on Nick’s shoulder in an attempt to console him. “Stop being so nervous and go find him. You’ve already danced with him once. This will be easy.”

 

Nick straightened his posture and bow tie, facing Jordan. She could see a twinge of anxiety on his face as he exhaled slowly.

 

“I suppose you’re right,” he said. _She’s not_ , Nick thought to himself.

 

Jordan signaled a waiter carrying a tray of slim champagne glasses, the rims spilling over with alcohol, taking two and handing a glass to Nick. With a nod of solidarity, the two tipped back their glasses in hopeful abandon and rested their glasses on the rail. He scoured the dancers on the lower level of the mansion, quickly recognizing a head of shining blonde hair. Nick gripped the staircase rail tightly until Jordan placed her hand over his. He slowly let go, his knuckles fading from white. Jordan released him and Nick, forgetting his glass, carefully made his way down the stairs, nerves heightening with every step.

 

Nick shouldered his way through the crowd, making some effort to inch towards Gatsby while avoiding as many guests as possible. It was not, to some small degree of surprise, what he would consider ‘easy’ to make his way through the pulsing swarm of crazed dancers. Given that the outdoor festivities were not on course due to rain, it was not uncommon to trip over the feet of a dancer, nor was it uncommon to find himself completely lost. In his confusion, Nick could feel the anxiety coursing through his body, his stomach turning, his uneven breath shaking, the growing tension in his veins as he approached the area he _believed_ Gatsby was. Eventually able to nudge through, he had expected to find the host. Looking upon the rare desolation, it was clear that he did not.

 

Flustered, Nick took the time to look around the space helplessly. He was admittedly naïve. He knew Gatsby didn’t care for his parties much, it may have very well been someone else he saw in the crowd, with a beautifully fitted suit of white and perfectly slicked golden hair and – _where WAS he?_ Ready to vent his frustrations with Jordan, Nick turned on his heel, taking no more than two steps before feeling a light tug at the back of his sleeve. The tug only served to stop his moving, the subsequent delicate pull of his wrist brought Nick around to face the assailant.

 

“Nick! I was just looking for you,” Gatsby said with a smile. His dazzling grin struck Nick, his heart accelerating, certainly not helping the stressed pressure in his chest.

 

Nick chuckled nervously, tugging the sleeves of his jacket. When did he forget how to speak around Gatsby?

  
  
“Yes, hello, Gats—Jay,” Nick corrected himself. Gatsby beamed.

  
  
“Very good, old sport!” exclaimed Gatsby, clapping Nick’s shoulder with a hearty laugh while his champagne glass slipped dangerously in his hands. Nick noted the warm pink shades in Gatsby’s cheeks and the scent of alcohol on his breath. Nick swallowed.

 

“Pardon me, Jay, but I was actually just about to leave--”

 

“Leave?” Gatsby said with concern.

 

“I have to go, I’m not feeling well-”

 

Gatsby grabbed Nick by his shoulders in a sudden, stumbling movement and turned the brunet to face him. He eyed Nick through his blurred vision, studying him with as much sober focus he could muster.

 

“You... do not look well, either, Nick,” the blond mused out loud. Nick felt the alcohol in his system hit his legs as he wavered in Gatsby’s touch. He doubted he’d ever get used to his own name on Gatsby’s lips.

 

“Here, old sport, let’s get you some air. Come with me,” Gatsby offered (though more of a statement than anything debatable) as he took Nick’s hand. Nick let himself be lead away from the crowd. Looking up, he saw Jordan smiling down at him from his previous spot at the railing. She lifted her now-empty champagne glass towards him in a salute just as Gatsby had when the two first met.

 

Gatsby took Nick’s arm and brought it over the blond’s shoulder, doing the same with his own across Nick’s back, giving each other support the staircase that led to the upper levels towards Gatsby’s room. More than once Gatsby was almost sent tumbling down the stairs, his inebriation affecting his footsteps, and once nearly pulled Nick down with him. The two giggled as they slowly climbed the stairs, talking and singing to themselves while they finally stumbled their way to the top stair and the door to Gatsby’s room. Gatsby held the polished wooden door open for Nick as he stepped inside. Even with his blurred vision, Nick could see the room was just as well decorated as the rest of the house, gold and red objects skewed by his eyesight. Nick found himself at Gatsby’s balcony window overlooking the spansive garden full of partygoers, celebrating the rain’s decline. The trees shone with lanterns, reflecting the moon’s silver light with their leaves.

 

Nick took in the delicately carved shrubbery in awe. His lips slightly parted in overwhelming amazement. He felt hands on his sides from behind and looked down to see Gatsby’s custom ring gleaming in the moonlight. Nick was slowly drawn backward from the railing into Gatsby’s arms as his back hit Gatsby’s chest.

 

“Careful now,” Gatsby hummed into Nick’s ear, causing a shiver down his spine. Gatsby was much more affectionate once he had a few drinks, Nick noted through his haze.

 

He turned Nick around until they were chest to chest, close enough for Nick to smell the champagne mixed with his cologne. Gatsby smiled and stepped backward, releasing Nick.

 

“Do you remember your lessons, old sport?”

 

When Nick gave him a confused look, Gatsby took Nick’s right hand in his own.

 

“May I have this dance?” Gatsby asked over the muffled, booming music from the dance hall.

 

He brought Nick forward and laced his hands behind Nick’s neck. Nick instinctively rested his hands on Gatsby’s waist and took the lead with a sideways step.

 

Nick’s sense of touch had been heightened from intoxication, and he felt every brush of Gatsby’s fingers against his neck.

 

“Have you danced with Jordan yet?” Gatsby inquired with a flutter of his eyelashes that made Nick’s heart skip a beat.

 

“I— n-not yet, no,” tripped out from Nick’s mouth as he watched Gatsby’s. With liquid courage in his blood, Nick brought his hand from Gatsby’s hip to the side of the blond’s face, running his thumb over the lips he had on his mind since the first dance.

 

“I thought I may have needed more practice,” Nick lied. Gatsby’s eyes widened.

 

“Nick, you’re drunk,” slurred Gatsby with a smile. Nick’s hand moved from the blond’s lips to brush the honey-gold hair from Gatsby’s face.

 

“Oh,” Nick smiled, enjoying the lack of inhibition as he leaned closer to Gatsby, “perhaps.” His eyes never left Gatsby’s soft lips as he pulled Gatsby’s hips towards him and brought their mouths together in an unabashed act of longing. Gatsby’s blue eyes slowly closed and he leaned into the kiss, returning the innocent passion as he cupped Nick’s face in his hands. Nick couldn’t help the smile Gatsby felt against his lips. Nick had been waiting so long, been so patient for this moment. A warm feeling of contentedness flooded outward from his stomach through his body even as they slowly and reluctantly parted.

 

“Very drunk, old sport,” Gatsby laughed lightheartedly, playfully ruffling Nick’s tawny hair. He pulled Nick in for a quick, chaste kiss and let him go as he moved across the room.

 

“I suppose they will need me downstairs,” Gatsby said with a wink as he turned away from Nick, walking towards the grand doors and opening them to step outside. “Wait for me?”

“O-Of course. And--Jay--you’re quite the dancer,” Nick sighed in half-lidded, wonderstruck awe.

 

“And you, quite the kisser,” Gatsby replied as he stepped outside the doors and shut them behind him, leaving Nick alone in the shine of the moon and the afterglow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spicy stuff to come ;)

**Author's Note:**

> partially inspired by the covers on ruby's natsby spotify playlists
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/literaaturaa/playlist/1lsSMA9ag6ZZEef7rILuRS?si=R0E8mi-6ThmFEZf2BGCskw
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/literaaturaa/playlist/0TGjf2zSNQ7aAaQrYShSGz?si=I_q7ECvBThebAKgrVG9UHg


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